


The Hit

by TheInvisibleSpoon



Series: Everything is F.I.N.E. [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: AAAH MY BOYS, Abuse, Death, Gen, Guns, Manipulation, Murder, Violence, also do not. ship them. this is nowhere near healthy, be careful kids, fuckin creepy motherfucker jesus, oh my boys, which — okay that doesn't sound good right now but yOU DON'T UNDERSTAND YET
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 09:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15682686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInvisibleSpoon/pseuds/TheInvisibleSpoon
Summary: Originally posted on Tumblr on January 14th, 2018. Clickherefor that.Summary:The introduction of the hitman and his boss. Very spooky, 10/10, would not really recommendWord Count:672Notes at the end to avoid spoilers. Trigger warnings are in the tags.





	The Hit

It was dark out, but Adam had long ago grown used to the lack of light. Even with the night vision monocle, his other eye was well adjusted to the gloom. 

It was easy to sneak onto the roof of the building on the corner of Third and Rose. The south end of this city was filled with drunks and stoners and didn’t care if a mysterious stranger was seen climbing his way to the roof with an even more mysterious suitcase. So, they took no notice when they heard the clanging of footsteps along the metal staircase. They would take more notice soon, however. 

A light wind was pushing the smoke from a nearby vent to the West; a small shred of luck. The man searched the roof quickly and quietly, and then took to the eastern side and silently unpacked his suitcase. With evident skill and experience, he slid the pieces into place, checking the scope and the safety. He briefly grasped a small locket around his neck, closing his eyes and whispering a short prayer. He wished it hadn’t rained, he thought as he crouched into place. He hated when the roofs were wet. It made everything shine in the dull yellow streetlights, and the humidity never gave him a good grip on the rifle. 

He waited. He heard a couple fighting somewhere down the street. He waited. A cat sped its way across the pavement below, digging through trash cans before slinking into a smelly alleyway. He waited. A bicyclist rode through the street, expertly swerving around potholes and turning left along Rose Avenue. He waited.    
The woman came. Her name did not matter, nor did what she wore. Once upon a time, when Adam fought for his country, it mattered very much. Once upon a time, he had killed another woman like this one. She had a family. Once upon a time, Adam spent three hours after crying and drowning the memory in shitty alcohol. 

This time, he did not hesitate. He aimed and squeezed the trigger. 

Her body dropped like a rag doll onto the concrete, illuminated under a dull yellow spotlight. The neighbourhood came to a silent halt. Adam guessed he had approximately five minutes before the police arrived. 

Quickly and quietly, he put away his rifle, glanced around once, and made his way down the metal staircase again, this time on the west side. No one took notice of him. 

He was two blocks away when he received the call. The stony-faced man tensed for the first time this night. Ducking into an alleyway, he flipped open the phone and hit the green button. 

The voice crackled through the receiver, but Adam could easily understand the bouncy and eccentric voice coming through. 

“Well done, Adam! You alwayth come through for me.” Adam didn’t respond, but it didn’t matter. Ector knew he wouldn’t dare stop listening unless told to do so. “Keep this up, and I might let you take a day off.” 

Adam gritted his teeth, but he responded dutifully. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Ooh, I love it when you call me thir! It’th cute.” Even through the shitty speaker, Adam could hear the tapping of that damn cane. “You’ve given me tho much over the yearth, Adam.” His voice was uncharacteristically quiet, and it was the only thing that made Adam nervous anymore. “Of courthe, your debt is thtill very high. Tho, thay you love me.” 

Adam closed his eyes. “I love you, Elm.” 

“Aww, you’re tho thweet!” His voice regained its usual volume. “Be back before ten.” 

It was only the beep of the end of the call that made Adam realize he was shaking. And not with fear, no, he had grown beyond that a long time ago. It was anger, pure anger, and utter helplessness. Nothing he ever did would release him from his debt. So, ignoring the police sirens from three blocks in the other direction, he strode calmly out of the dank alley and walked on into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, my boys. They're great. Don't get confused, though: **This Is Not Okay.** Lots of no. Also **Do Not Ship Them This Is Unhealthy.** There's stuff coming in the future that will explain stuff. Adam uses he/him pronouns and Ector is pronoun indifferent, but most people use he/him and Ector doesn't mind.   
>  There's… not a lot to say, actually. Idk. Just have fun with these assholes


End file.
